Kryptonite
by acidalteredfingerprints
Summary: AU Jetko When street urchin Jet finds a neardead boy in the snow, he brings him back to his gang's base. Zuko slowly recovers, and both boys realize that some memories can't stay hidden.


A/N: This was written as a birthday present for my friend on the firenation proboards. For any readers of Blood Bonds, don't worry I'm still writing it I just had a massive case of writer's block (if anyone's interested in Beta reading it I'll love you forever )

Happy (Belated ;;) Birthday Meat and Sarcasm! Hope you don't mind A/U.

Originally going to be a one shot...but I might add more if anyone likes it.

Kryptonite

Snow was falling. Not the harsh snow of a blizzard, but not the playful drifting of a powder either. Rather, it was falling just hard enough that anyone dressed properly for such weather would feel the slightest hint of a chill and a reminder of just how bad winter could be.

Clothed in ripped jeans, a baggy black T-shirt and boots that had been new sometime two years ago, it was clear that the boy had not been planning on walking through the snow. His body was slightly shaking and his skin tinged blue, evidence that hypothermia would soon set in if he didn't find somewhere warm fast, not that he noticed. Golden eyes hazed over, staring into a distance somewhere beyond the empty streets and the snow-covered cars, his father's words echoed over and over in his mind.

_"No longer my son."_

_Step. Step. Gotta keep moving. Damn Azula...if she hadn't...and Sokka...damn it, Agni what now? Step. Step. keep moving keep moving...father...what would mother...keep...moving_

Without consulting his brain, the boy's legs began moving slower, each step slightly longer then the last. The impressions left in the snow seemed to grow larger as he declined to walk properly and instead drag his feet threw the snow. _it's...kind of cold..._ _Step. Drag. Drag_. A light fog was drifting in his mind now, warm and friendly, if he squinted he could almost see his mother, and himself but younger... _mom..._ The boy fell to his knees in the middle of the empty city street, the falling snow decorating his unfeeling body. He was no longer there, but in his house, it was just him and his mother...Ursa was smiling at him. Zuko took a few steps closer to her, holding out his hand, not believing that...

"Mom?" He asked softly, hopeful. Now that he was closer, he could see her smile wasn't one of joy, but tinged with melancholy, and in her eyes tears were forming. She began to reach out towards him then stopped, shaking her head.

"No, my son, not yet."

The world began to shake and the distance between them widened. "Mom!" He shouted, "Mo-!" but then everything went black.

"Mom..." The soft moan reached Jet's ears, startling the street urchin from his half-sleep. He looked down at the source of the plea, a boy around his own age, with pale skin and a burn scar on his left eye, wrapped tightly in a few faded blue blankets and with a warm rag on his forehead. Despite the cry, the boy was still asleep as far as Jet could tell, though at least most of the blue had faded from his skin tone.

The street boy had found the youth, unconscious and near death, on a scouting trip with Longshot, Smellerbee, Pipsqueak and The Duke. At first they thought the boy was dead, he was so pale and half-buried in snow, but after careful examination Longshot had noticed the faint rise and fall of the stranger's chest. Ordering the other three to continue the raids for food, Jet and Pipsqueak had brought the unconscious boy back to the dilapidated building the gang called 'home' in the more remote part of the city. Now the stranger was laying in Jet's 'bed' (a small mattress with the more dangerous springs cut off and then duck-taped over courtesy of the local dump) in what could generously be called a room, though the door had been missing since the Justice League first moved in, replaced by hanging green sheet tacked to the top of the frame and several holes in the wall had been covered by black tarp. Nevertheless, it had four mostly cream colored walls, a bed, a pile of clothes in the corner, and scattered about were papers, a few books, pens, paints and pencils. It was what Jet called home.

The boy stirred again, shifting slightly to his left and his eyes squeezed tighter, his formerly neutral expression transforming into a scowl. His body shuddered and Jet frowned, kneeling onto the ground to check the cloth on his charge's forehead. It was cold.

"Hey, Pipsqueak!" Jet shouted, taking the cloth off the boy's forehead and waiting for his friend to enter the room. He didn't have to wait long, he could feel the slight pounding of the floor grow stronger and the curtain was pulled back to reveal a large boy in a large Christmas patterned sweatshirt and jeans.

"Yeah, Jet?"

"Heat this up again, will you? I don't want him to die on my watch." The leader held out the cloth to Pipsqueak who wordlessly nodded and took it, lumbering out again. Jet watched him leave the room and the curtain fall back into place, staring at the way it waved and trembled until another moan, this one wordless, brought his attention back to the bed. The teen's look of concern relaxed into one of relief as he saw a pair of golden colored eyes slowly blink, once, twice, then squint in the faint light at Jet's face.

"It's about time you woke up." The street urchin grinned, brushing a few strands of damp hair out of the sick boy's face. The boy winced but did nothing, merely looking around the room for a few moments, the look of confusion giving way to one of panic as he realized he was in an unfamiliar place.

"Where am-" His angry question, almost comical in the hoarse voice it was spoken in, was interrupted by a small coughing fit. Jet waited calmly for it to subside, his usual smirk taking its place on his face.

"You are at the Justice League headquarters. I'm Superman, currently we're located on my home planet of Krypton." The leader of the street gang laughed at the boy's expression, obviously unsure if Jet was joking or just insane. "Actually, I'm Jet, you're at the home of my real life Justice League. More importantly, you're alive. Now who are you?"

"Zuko." The boy muttered, Agni his throat hurt, and it was still cold. He tried to prop himself up onto his elbows, not comfortable with Jet leering down at him, but his arms gave out from underneath him and he fell back, facing the ceiling. Vaguely the other boy's words 'You're alive' registered as important to his brain, but his vision was getting fuzzy again, and thinking about it gave him a headache. "son of...son of..." '_No longer my son.' _

Zuko fell silent and looked again at Jet, funny, it almost looked like the other boy was surrounded by some sort of ethereal light, "just Zuko."

Jet nodded, their would be time to find out the male's story later, now he just wanted to concentrate on his recovery. He slowly reached out his right hand and pet Zuko's hair softly, his hand stroking the slightly damp locks, tracing to his left ear and unconsciously making it's way to trace the outline of the scar. Raising a shaky hand, Zuko weakly grabbed Jet's wrist, and the boy stopped. The sick boy opened his mouth to say something, but instead another shudder wracked his body, accompanied by a coughing fit. Panicked, Jet put a hand on his shoulder uncertainly, not sure what to do. Longshot was the unofficial doctor of the gang, not him, where was Pipsqueak with that damn hot cloth? Finally Zuko's fit subsided, and he pulled the blankets around himself tighter, curling up into a ball. Jet chuckled.

"What?" Zuko asked, glaring up, still seeing a glow around Jet. His head was ringing now, and what he really wanted to do was go back to sleep, but his pride refused to let him in front of this mocking boy.

"You looked cute for a moment." Jet smirked. Zuko had reminded him of a cat he used to own before the fire, a pale feline named Scrubbers who would curl up in Jet's chest at night like a dog when the young boy had been afraid of the dark.

"Screw you." Zuko glared at the other, curling up tighter despite the...he wasn't sure if it was a compliment or insult, but he was still cold and he wasn't going to let a snide comment get in the way of his warmth. Jet opened his mouth, but his comment was lost when Pipsqueak appeared in the doorway, holding a new wet and warm cloth gingerly in one hand as if it were a gem or a deadly insect.

"Here you go Jet." He said, glancing at Zuko curiously from the corner of his eye.

"Thanks Pipsqueak." Jet took the hot cloth from him just as carefully, folding it in half twice then turning back to Zuko, demeanor completely changed. "Here, you're fever isn't bad, yet, but I think this will help anyways."

Without waiting for a reply or consent, he placed the cloth on the sick boy's forehead as Pipsqueak exited yet again, uncomfortable being in the room with the two elder boys.

Zuko closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, where the cloth had felt fire hot to the others it was merely pleasantly warm to him, even the ringing quieted a little. Opening his eyes once more he looked at Jet, whispering "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Jet said, but his words sounded faint and distant to Zuko.

_ the fog was growing thicker around Jet, and still there was the glow, but beyond him Zuko could see Ursa again, farther in the distance but still visible. He tried to call out but his mouth wouldn't open. Mom...mom...he thought desperately, and Ursa shook her head again. Jet slowly began to be consumed by fog too, the last thing Zuko was aware of being the grin on his savior's face._

It took nearly a week for Zuko to make an acceptable recovery. Six days and nights of drifting in and out of consciousness, muttering names and fragmented sentences, two of those days he had been dangerously close to pneumonia, not a problem in a normal family, but the Justice League didn't have access to the right kind of medicine nor the proper heating equipment to deal with it. The fact that in the entire eight years since a young Jet had met up with Smellerbee and the Duke and formed the Justice League only three had ever died was just short of miraculous. Feeding Zuko had been hell too, he was only able to stomach meat broth in small quantities, spoon fed like an infant because his hand shook the spoon too much. Sometimes Smellerbee watched him, sometimes the Duke, sometimes Pipsqueak, but mostly Jet was the one to stay by his side during the day, putting up with his incoherent ramblings and occasional insults. It was Jet who slept beside him at night, keeping Zuko warm with his body heat when the other didn't shove him away (thanks to Longshot's demands that Jet drain orange juice and get fresh air as much as possible, the most Jet had suffered was a small cold). And yet it was on Smellerbee's watch, while Jet was out on a midnight patrol with Skelterhorn and Bones, that Longshot examined the boy and decided that the worst of his illness had passed and his most serious ailment was a small cold.

"Should we send someone to tell Jet?" Smellerbee asked Longshot. The two of them stood by the door, Zuko had already fallen back to sleep despite requesting real food for the first time since they had found him.

Longshot shook his head.

"I guess you're right, a patrol shouldn't be interrupted just for that." Smellerbee said, interpreting his meaning out loud was second-nature, though by now most of the Justice League understood what he meant without having to clarify it with him.

Longshot looked at Zuko for a moment, then at the curtain, then back at Smellerbee, his expression slightly softening.

"What do you mean Jet's taking too much interest in him? So what? It's not like he's been any less of a good leader because of it, besides, it's good for him to have something to think about besides revenge." Smellerbee's voice got slightly defensive, she too had noticed Jet's odd interest in Zuko, but had dismissed it from her thoughts. It didn't matter, besides, it was nice to see Jet focused on something besides trying to rid the city of crime like some sort of comic book superhero.

Longshot's eyes narrowed slightly in sadness, and he looked at Zuko again, his gaze staying there. Smellerbee's eyes followed, understanding.

"I know, it's close to the time. But this has nothing to do with Sai. Jet's not like that." Her voice's pitched raised just a bit, silently hoping Longshot would agree with her. The male sighed and looked at her.

"If you really think so, then talk to Jet about it, not me." Smellerbee's eyes narrowed slightly in anger and she took a step back, hands balling up into fists. Sai was more hers then Jet's, and she wasn't trying to replace him with this newcomer, so why would he?

Longshot stepped towards her and placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes softening. Smellerbee relaxed her shoulders and looked to the ground, leaning into him, "I'm sorry." She whispered.

"Beat on the brat, beat on the brat, beat on the brat with a baseball bat oh yeah!" Singing triumphantly as they made their way home, Skelterhorn and Bones walked on either side of Jet. Skelterhorn was a skinny boy, standing just an inch shorter then Jet he was one of those prepubescents who seemed to be made completely out of knees, with pale skin and dark brown eyes that were a shade or two lighter then the long, scraggly hair that fell easily to his mid-back, clothed in a dark grey sweater and black cargo pants, both technically fitting on his frame but giving the appearance that they really shouldn't. Bones was a few years older, about fifteen or sixteen, a dark skinned girl standing at just above five feet, nevertheless the manic gleam in her dark green eyes suggested that picking a fight with her would not end pleasantly, she was clothed in just a purple tank top, jeans, tennies, and the animal bone necklace from which she had derived her name. Despite her lack of covering, she seemed warmer then the slightly shivering Skelterhorn, as warm from the recent fight as was Jet, who wore a long sleeved maroon T-shirt and black pants. Though he wasn't singing, he wore the same triumphant grin that was spread on both of his companion's faces, along with a few bruises, cuts and scrapes. Mentally he went over the night's tally in his head; they had managed to stop two muggers and fight off a group of hooligans that had been attempting to rape some women in an alley, killing one and leaving his body for the cops to sort with in the morning. His grin grew wider _this city doesn't need superheroes, it has us._

The singing quieted as they approached the headquarters, though the smiles on their faces didn't fade. Soon they would free this city of evil, tonight was proof they could do it. True, it meant that they had a lot of enemies out there hot for Justice League blood, but they were one of the largest gangs in town, and confident in the fact that they were the toughest. Sai would have been happy, Jet knew it. Bidding the other two goodnight, he strode towards his room, still slightly giddy, tomorrow he would hold a party, after going on a mission for supplies. Maybe Zuko would feel well enough to join in on it too. Approaching his room, he began to raise his hand to grab the curtain, when he noticed a figure sleeping on the ground, straw hat covering the face.

"Longshot?" He whispered, tapping the tip of the hat. A hand shot up and clasped tightly around Jet's wrist, and the figure looked up. Jet sighed slightly in relief, yes, it was him. But what was he doing outside of..."Is everything okay? Is something wrong with Zuko?" His brow furrowed as hundreds of possibilities raced through his mind. Yanking his wrist free he went to grab the curtain again, but Longshot stood quickly and grabbed his shoulder. Jet turned to face the younger boy, his eyes hard, "What the hell?"

Longshot met his gaze calmly, nodding at the space beside Jet. The elder sighed and relaxed,

"Okay, we can talk." Stepping to where the archer had nodded, Jet crossed his arms and cocked his head, "What's up?"

Longshot held up three fingers.

"It's in three days, I know." Jet's eyes softened and he looked at the ground, "But what does that have to do with anything?"

Staring at Jet until his leader looked at him, Longshot nodded to the room where Zuko was asleep, then gave Jet a pointed look.

"What! You think I'm doing that?" Jet whispered angrily, fighting down the blush that was rising in his cheeks. How could Longshot think he would ever try to replace Sai? He wouldn't. Longshot was crazy, he was paranoid. The archer's gaze stayed on him and Jet felt it was necessary to say more, "He was going to die, Longshot, and alright, I may have been paying more attention to him then I usually do to new recruits but trust me this has nothing to do with Sai! Sai's gone, I know that, I've moved on!"

Longshot's expression softened.

"I know, you're only trying to help. But I think Zuko would make a great asset to the Justice League, he's a survivor, like us, and something must have happened to get him out in that snow alone. I bet he's seen a lot of injustice too, he didn't get that scar from blowing out birthday candles." Jet's voice calmed and he gave Longshot a small grin, " I'm not trying to replace Sai, alright? Zuko is his own person."

Longshot stared, meeting Jet's eyes until the older boy placed a hand over his chest.

"Cross my heart." Jet said. Longshot nodded, then looked once more towards Zuko's room and glanced at Jet.

"Are you sure?" Relief edged its way into Jet's voice at the news, and he smirked again.

Longshot nodded.

"Good. Thanks, Longshot, without you, he wouldn't have survived." Jet said sincerely clasping the boy on the shoulder. Longshot gave Jet a friendly look, and turned to walk down the corridor towards the stairwell.

Jet stared at the curtain, _ I'm not trying to replace Sai, Zuko is his own person, and probably straight, I'm not trying to replace Sai, Longshot's wrong._ He thought, throwing the curtain aside with more force then was needed and nearly ripping some of the tacks out as he walked into the room. Zuko was in bed, wrapped as tightly in the blankets as he had been that first day, though his damp clothes had long been traded for a simple bathrobe of a faded navy color. Jet's smirk softened to a smile, staring at the sleeping boy for several seconds until Zuko's eyes opened slightly.

"Jet?" He asked in a whisper, sitting up slowly. The blankets fell to his abdomen, revealing that sometime during the night the robe had come loose, barely hanging of his shoulders to expose a chest that, though it had lost some muscle during his illness, still held a lean and toned shape. It struck Jet as odd that up till now he had seen almost none of Zuko's body; Longshot and the Duke had helped him switch clothing and take him to the lavatory when nature called. "What are you staring at?"

Jet blinked, inwardly blushing as he realized that he had been blatantly staring at Zuko's chest. He met the other boy's eyes and grinned, "I'm glad you're okay." he avoided Zuko's question. Looking away from the boy, he began to strip of his clothing, throwing it in a pile he mentally had marked to clean sometime in the very distant future. Finally he stood in just his boxer's, his figure illuminated by the faint light coming from the hallway. Zuko was reminded of the first time he saw Jet, the glow induced by his fevered brain, it looked similar.

Jet noticed the scarred boy's gaze and his smirk grew. The Justice League leader turned towards Zuko so the bed-ridden one could see him in nearly all his glory, and cocked his head to the side, "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing." Zuko muttered, looking away and laying back into the bed, curling up into a ball for warmth. The dim lighting made it impossible for Jet to tell if Zuko was blushing or if it was just shadows across his face. Shrugging to himself, Jet pulled a nightshirt on over his head. Climbing into the bed, he gently pulled part of the blankets out of Zuko's grasp and over himself before placing an arm around the scarred boy and moving closer for warmth, pleasantly surprised when Zuko did not attempt to squirm away.

"So Zuko, now that you're not going to die." Jet began after a few moments of silence. "Why were you out in the middle of the snow wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans?"

For a long while, Zuko didn't answer, making Jet think perhaps he had fallen back asleep. Staring at the wall before him, Zuko struggled to word what he wanted to say. Finally, he whispered, "My father...he...kicked me out of the house." That was the nice way of putting it. Zuko was surprised the worst he had escaped with was the scar running along his right thigh and calf. One good thing about being out in the snow was that the blood didn't have time enough to flow too freely before freezing over, and Longshot had applied bandages to it so even when it thawed he wasn't in any serious danger.

Jet propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at Zuko. There was more that the other wasn't telling him. "Why?"

"Because I..." Zuko trailed off, remembering in spite of himself. i His father's angry face, his sister smirking in the background, the picture on the floor.../i His body tensed underneath Jet, he hated Azula. It was her fault!

"Hey, hey..." A hand began to rub his arm softly, and Zuko relaxed. "You don't have to tell me now." Jet said reassuringly, almost scared of the anger that had risen so swiftly inside Zuko. He lay back down, putting his arm around the other again "Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning."

Not saying a word, Zuko just pressed his back gratefully against Jet's, putting his hand on Jet's without thinking and closing his eyes, drifting back into sleep.

"Goodnight, sweet prince." Jet whispered once the rise and fall of Zuko's chest assured him the other was asleep. Burying his head into Zuko's shoulder, Jet yawned, it had been a long day.


End file.
